A Gift of Magic
by MarbleGlove
Summary: On a silent night, war approaches and loyalties are suspect, but beyond it all, it's still Christmas.


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PG On a silent night, war approaches and loyalties are suspect, but beyond it all, it's still Christmas._

Disclaimer: I own very little. JKR owns quite a bit, including all the characters in this story. Please don't sue me.

A/N1: Written at my (quite wonderful) dad's request, this is my attempt to write a Christmas story set at Hogwarts. Merry Christmas, Dad. I hope you like this.

A/N2: Thanks to my sister who beta'd this for me. 

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A Gift of Magic  
by MarbleGlove

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Argus Filch stamped his feet a bit to keep them warm and squinted into the shadow cast by the edge of the forest. He couldn't see Snape, but then again, he couldn't see much of anything so it wouldn't surprise him if Snape was there watching.

Sure enough, Snape spoke. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust in your ability to keep your own counsel."

Argus grunted and stamped his feet again. 

"I've been working on developing some spells subtle enough to go unnoticed by surveillance wards. Anything more than a breath of magic sets such wards off. The spells I've created so far can go unnoticed, but they just aren't very useful. I can make a breeze from still air. Create a spark that might or might not light a candle."

"And why are you telling me all this? I came out here expecting to be bribed or threatened or killed. Not lectured at." Argus scowled.

It was bitterly cold, it was near midnight, and it was one of the few days of the year that he didn't have to patrol the hallways looking for misbehaving students. Argus had grumbled to himself as he trudged through the snow, making his way from the castle to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. What he should have been doing was calling the Aurors. That's what he should have been doing. Or at the very least telling the new Headmistress. 

But he didn't trust the Aurors any further than he could throw them, and the Headmistress had already been making noises about how the caretaker of a magic castle should have magic. Argus hated the kids at Hogwarts with a jealous passion, but he loved the old castle. Hogwarts was the physical manifestation of everything he loved about magic and he'd rather die than be kicked out by some over-educated spinster.

Snape probably knew everything that was going through his head right now but only acknowledged his words so far as to pause in a pointed way to make sure he was done speaking before continuing.

"It occurred to me that while muggles do not have a drop of magic in their veins, squibs have enough magic inherent in them to see past anti-muggle wards and navigate through the wizarding world. The difference between squibs and wizards is whether their magic is sufficient to meet some minimum threshold. Yours did not while Longbottom's did."

Argus tensed when Snape pulled out a wand but was surprised to see it wasn't his usual wand. He frowned but managed to catch the wand when it was tossed to him. It was small and flimsy-looking with visible marks from where it had been carved and created. Nothing like the quality of wands that Ollivander sold. "What is it?"

"Six inch bamboo with an acromantula hair." Snape paused and when he spoke again he sounded disgruntled. "I had to make it myself. Bamboo is too sensitive for most wands and acromantula hair is too strong an amplifier for any of the weaker woods. No self-respecting wandmaker would create a wand with such a combination. Focusing any significant amount of magic through it is impossible."

"But for a squib...?" Argus hated the note of hope in his voice even more than the grip of hope in his chest.

"But for a squib, the hair might be enough to amplify what little you have and the bamboo sensitive enough to notice it."

Argus sometimes dreamed about using magic and casting spells. He would wake up remembering the feel of magic at his command, running through his veins. He knew exactly what to expect now that he had a real chance.

He gripped the wand in his hand and pointed it at a clump of snow and waited to feel the power flow. "Wingardium Leviosa"

Absolutely nothing happened.

Burning with rage at the failure, he cursed at Snape. The man just looked at him in that disgusted manner he had toward students who had just done something particularly stupid. It made Argus cut short his rant and scowl. "What?"

"Have you already forgotten what I said at the beginning of this little get-together? I have a few spells worked out that require very little power. The simpler the wandwork the more raw power needed. Obviously, with less power, you need more elegant spell design. Now, copy me."

And Snape withdrew his own wand and and led Argus through a series of complicated and exact swishes.

And a breeze started up.

It wasn't anything like what he had dreamed. It wasn't fire in the veins or being a god. No, it was better than that. It felt like being alive.

It only lasted for a few seconds before the air stilled again. But for those few seconds the world was perfect.

"Why?" Argus asked the question that had been bothering him for more than half a year. "Why did you kill the headmaster?"

The night was still and silent. The faint movement of air that Argus had conjured was long since settled once more. He wondered if he had pushed his luck too far. But it was just the two of them, two ugly middle-aged men in the cold dark night, and he had just performed real magic for the first time in his life.

The answer when it came was no more informative than the silence that preceded it. "Because I could."

Argus felt the wand with his hands, acquainting his fingers with its every notch and bend.

"Why have you given me this?"

This time the pause was brief. "Because I could."

Even straining his eyes to see the man standing a mere five feet away, all he could see was the blur of a white face in the dim light of moonlight reflected off snow. Snape's black robes were completely indistinguishable from the night. 

"Because it's Christmas."

Argus didn't know what to say to that, so instead of saying anything he recast the charm. Again and again. And again and again the air moved for those brief moments and he raised his face to the breeze and the tears froze in their path down his cheeks.

It was glorious. That faint breeze gave him a greater feeling of power than any gale could have. It was perfect.

It was also exhausting.

When his head finally felt too fuzzy for further casting, he looked around him and noticed that at some point Snape had left.

It was a still and quiet night in the bitterly cold Scotland December. Argus was exhausted. In the near future, he would have to deal with the students returning to school after the Christmas holidays. In the slightly more distant future, the war with You-Know-Who would come to a head.

War was coming, Argus knew. War was already here, really. Already some of the most powerful wizards and witches alive dueled to the death and left each other and anyone weaker dead behind them.

Being able to exhaust himself calling up a breeze with a wand that few would consider any better than a twig would not keep him alive. Argus knew that, too.

It was the best gift he could imagine getting.

"Merry Christmas, Severus. And a happy New Year."

The night was silent and cold but now Argus thought the cold seemed sacred rather than bitter. In the dark and cold and stillness, Argus felt alive.

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_A/N: Merry Christmas, Everybody.__  
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